


Waiting on the Real Thing

by ThereIsNoTragedyInThat



Series: The Place We Found Ourselves [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Loss of Control, M/M, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Protective Derek, Protective Stiles Stilinski, Restraints, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:42:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26748973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat/pseuds/ThereIsNoTragedyInThat
Summary: The first thing that managed to break through the cloud in Derek’s head was blood. The scent of it, familiar and homely, tickled at his nose and made a low growl reverberate deep in his chest, instincts confused and uncertain. It was, extremely disorienting, to try and fight back the wolf that had taken charge in his mind. Derek could feel his body, completely shifted and moving of its own accord but he hadn’t been able to find the connection between himself and his body until that very moment.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: The Place We Found Ourselves [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947652
Comments: 2
Kudos: 124
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Waiting on the Real Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Informally participating in Whumptober. Won't be everyday, just when I have a second.
> 
> Prompts: Shackled

The first thing that managed to break through the cloud in Derek’s head was blood. The scent of it, familiar and homely, tickled at his nose and made a low growl reverberate deep in his chest, instincts confused and uncertain. It was, extremely disorienting, to try and fight back the wolf that had taken charge in his mind. Derek could feel his body, completely shifted and moving of its own accord but he hadn’t been able to find the connection between himself and his body until that very moment.

The first human thought in a long time floated to the forefront of his mind.

Stiles.

In a way, this realization was something far more primal, something even more beastly then the wolf that had taken over so completely. He smelled blood and it was the blood of his mate, injured and hurting.

The vibrations in his chest shifted into a whine, still too far from human for him to properly express himself, nose working overtime to try and understand why he could smell his mate’s blood. That was when the scent of fear hit his nose, sharp and tangy, leaving a god-awful taste in his mouth.

Derek felt his whole-body shudder, as though it were bracing for impact, and he felt something…recede. This was his chance, he hadn’t felt this feral since he’d lost Laura and he found himself searching, looking for a foothold to bring him back to consciousness, to awareness so he could find his mate and protect him.

It turned out he didn’t have to work to hard at it, because it was given to him in the form of a hoarse and coaxing voice speaking to him as if from a million miles away. Derek felt his ears perk up and the haziness begin to subside as he focused entirely on that sound, on those words, reminding him.

“Derek? Come on big guy, come back to me. Derek, please, I need you to focus. Its me, its Stiles, we need you buddy, we need you to come back.”

His mate needed him.

Derek tried to stand, to move closer eyes finally fixating on a sight that sent a snarl rumbling out of him. They were in a small concrete room, he and Stiles, and his mate did not look good at all. There were dark circles under his eyes, his face pale and withdrawn, blood crusting on his temple, wrist cradled against his stomach. There was worse too…something else hidden beneath the layers of clothes in this dismal place.

He tried to move closer to comfort Stiles, but something kept him from moving, tugging harshly on his legs and practically forcing him to sit back down. His head snapped around, enraged that something was keeping him confined, away from his mate.

What he found was a familiar sight.

One that knocked him harshly back into his own mind, back in control as his skin prickled, feeling like ice water had been dumped on him. They were shackles, secured around his hind legs and unforgiving where they disappeared deep into the concrete. Runes were etched on the outside, simple things to encourage comfort and keep the skin from growing irritated, things to keep a wolf calm during a full moon as they transitioned for the first time. 

He hadn’t recognized where he was at first, hadn’t realized the plain empty cement room was the same one sequestered away in the basement of his childhood home, a tool used by his mother for wolves who had difficulty transiting, where they could be sat with and reassured while they lost control.

“Derek?”

Stiles voice was cautious but hopeful, he had shifted onto his knees and was watching him closely.

Something not so different to anguish ripped through his heart as he took in Stiles’ injuries again. His stomach threatened to heave, his nails scratched uselessly at the cement as he tried to come to terms with everything around him. He’d lost control, lost himself to the wolf and he’d been put here by his pack, by Stiles why they tried to get him to come back, to become human.

Fuzzy memories surfaced, of the witch they’d been hunting, her sneering wild eyes. Her hunched form and twisting limbs, her magic corrupting her body with the power of it. He remembered…being hit with something, Stiles’ cry of rage and Scott’s snarl, he remembered Erica and Boyd holding him and Jackson finally rising up with something big and metallic in his hand.

He hurt them, he hurt his pack, he hurt Stiles.

The agony reached a crescendo, the familiar feeling of betraying those he loved, just like his family all those years ago, just like Laura, hit him full force and he howled, the sound like a death rattle, pain filled and grief-stricken.

The only thing that pulled him back from the edge was the sudden sensation of hands on his face, holding him with surprising strength and Stiles’ voice, frantic and rambling, his eyes wide and desperate, “Derek, you didn’t hurt us. We’re okay, I’m okay. This is the witch, its all her fault, you didn’t do anything. I swear, please, come back, its okay. You didn’t hurt us Derek, you would never hurt us.”

Stiles had stepped within his reach, fearless, even though he had no way of knowing how much control the wolf still had and Derek found himself staring uncomprehendingly at his mate. That stench was still beneath the blood and sweat, the one of fear…but maybe it wasn’t fear of him but for him.

It wasn’t a conscious decision but suddenly Derek felt himself shift, his body becoming more familiar, less monstrous and looming. The look in Stiles’ eyes could only be described as that of relief, like the first breathe after a long, unforgiving drowning.

“Stiles?” he mumbled, his mate’s name like a balm.

“Derek,” Stiles grinned, lips stretched wide as he launched himself forward, arms holding him in a crushing hug.

The last of the grogginess slipped away as Derek inhaled deeply, nose buried in his mate’s neck, reassuring himself that he was okay. In his scent, he could also detect that of the pack, recent too which meant they’d all been here, waiting for him.

Derek hadn’t had this much love since he was a child, had known only heartbreak and loneliness since. He didn’t know what to do with all this, how to thank them for simply being there, for not giving up on him.

The wolf slinked away, back into the recesses of his mind, seemingly satisfied to no longer be at the forefront. Derek let it go without a fight, it used to be his solace, his defense against any and all threats, but sitting here in Stiles’ arms and the sound of his packing rushing down the stairs…he didn’t think he needed that anymore.


End file.
